


you say goodbye and I say hello

by AnnaofAza



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Slice of Life, ye olde 5+1 format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: Shiro and Keith are always in a hurry, always off to something. But they grab what they can get in the little moments.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	you say goodbye and I say hello

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Pre-Kerberos Week](https://twitter.com/sheithweeks/status/1224106678812962816?s=20)! (albeit a little belated)

It’s nice to finally be back home—without gravity. Floating around in space seems fun to an outsider, but becomes annoying after a while—having to be strapped down to go to the bathroom and having to log in every movement to Command. _Grabbed a pen,_ Matt had joked. _Ate a tasteless protein bar._ _Took a shit._

And this time, Shiro was in a particular hurry to beat the clock.

“Shiro!”

As soon as he opens the door, he’s tackled by a blur of orange. Keith’s hair is all over the place—he’ll need to cut it soon—and Shiro buries his face into it, arms wrapping around Keith’s waist, uncaring of the bulky belt buckle pressing into his stomach.

“How is everything?”

“Beat another record in the simulator last week, barely passed the last psychics test, and missed _you_.” Keith’s voice is muffled, and Shiro pulls away so he can properly look at him. Keith has the familiar dark circles under his eyes of a week-long all-nighter, skin a bit paler than usual, but his smile’s wide enough to make Shiro’s heart lighten.

“I missed you, too,” Shiro says, rummaging in one of his flight suit’s pouches. “I brought you something.”

Keith cradles the tiny stone in the palm of his hand; it looks unremarkable, but Keith appreciates anything from space. It’ll join the collection in the shoebox underneath Keith’s bed, something Shiro found while searching for his Christmas present last year. He’s never told Keith that he knows about it, but treasures the image of Keith carefully pulling the box out when his roommate is gone and opening the lid to reveal a clutter of mementoes: red pebbles and gray stones, a dried desert rose, two photo strips from the mall an hour away.

“Happy birthday,” Shiro says, with a small smile. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do. How are the onions doing?”

“Good,” Shiro replies. “We didn’t eat them this time, so Colleen’s happy.”

“I can’t believe you’re growing plants in space,” Keith says, tucking the stone carefully into his pant’s pocket. “How was it? Did you see any aliens?”

Shiro pretends to think. “Hm, as a matter of fact—we saw something behind one of the rocks. Big black eyes, gray heads, seven fingers—”

Keith lightly pushes him. “I know you’re lying. Aliens have _eight_ fingers.”

“You got me,” Shiro laughs.

“That’s not the only thing you got,” Keith replies, then pulls him in for a kiss.

The datapad in his back pocket buzzes frantically. Shiro winces. It's from Matt, warning him that Iverson is pissed off for ignoring his last nine pings.

“I have to go,” Shiro says apologetically.

“Now?” Keith asks, clearly flustered. “Did you debrief?”

“No,” Shiro admits. “I wanted to see you first.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but a small red flush on both cheeks betray his true feelings. “Then hurry up and give flight command your report so you can come back. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? On your birthday?”

“I like to mix it up.” Keith nudges him. “Now, _go_."

* * *

“Shirogane?”

Shiro looks up from the papers he’s been marking up, quietly relieved to have a break from students spitting out everything in their head in hopes of making the points. “Commander? Has the meeting started early?”

“No.” With a flick of his wrist, Commander Sablan hauls in a familiar face, similar to removing a dirty washcloth from the communal sink. “Your charge has been misbehaving again. Do keep him under control.”

Shiro bites his tongue, standing up. “I’ll talk to him, sir.”

“Please do, or else his conduct will be addressed in the next staff meeting,” Sablan says primly, then without looking back, turns on his heel and marches down the hall.

“Asshole,” Keith mutters when the commander is safely out of sight.

Just to be safe, Shiro stands up and closes the door behind them. “What happened?”

“Caught Griffin and his cronies getting into me, then assumed it was all my fault.” Keith scowls, dumping his messenger bag onto the floor. “Of all the stupid—they knocked my stuff off my desk, and Sablan had to catch me ripping into Griffin about not breaking my tablet. _I_ can’t afford to replace that shit, and he knows it.”

“If that happens, I could…”

“No.” Keith crosses his arms. “It’s bad enough that everyone thinks I got in because you wanted to do some charity work. I don’t want it to look like you’re now my sugar daddy.”

“I’d have to be older,” Shiro jokes, then lets up when Keith shoots him a look. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Keith plops down on the couch Shiro uses for power naps—and overnights when he can’t make it back to the dorm. “Can I crash here for a bit? I promise I’ll do my homework and leave you in peace.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, but I have a meeting in ten.” Shiro frowns apologetically. “You can have the soda in the mini fridge.”

“Can I text you during the meeting?”

“No,” Shiro says. “Last time, that picture you sent me made me have to fake a sneezing attack. I don’t think Sanda was fooled at all.”

“Blame Matt, not me.”

“You were the sender.”

“Still.”

Shiro leans over and pecks his cheek, then stands to grab his jacket off the back of his chair. He makes a mental note to take it to the dry cleaners; there’s still a mysterious stain and the remnants of a melted chocolate bar in one of the pockets. “Hey. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“No, you won’t. Those never end on time.”

“True,” Shiro admits, “but I’ll bring you back some of the pastries they always have. And some coffee.”

“Please do,” Keith groans. “I have to finish this write-up and cram for another midterm tomorrow. I’ll be up at night anyway.”

He cracks open a textbook, putting his feet up on one of the pillows, and Shiro sympathetically salutes him before hurrying down the hall.

* * *

“Keith. What are you doing here?”

Grinning in the doorway, Keith says, goggles slung over his neck, “We have free period all week. Everyone's leaving for breaks and music festivals, or holed up in the dorms studying. We can go off and—"

"The reason there's free period is because your final exams are next week," Shiro interrupts, putting down his wrench and wiping the grease off his nose. Even at ten AM, the sun’s beating down like it’s high noon, and he’s guessing he’ll have to change his shirt before he sits down at the dining hall.

A scowl overtakes Keith’s face. "Are you _kidding_?”

"You're not graduated, Keith."

“I thought you were my boyfriend, not my career counselor.”

Shiro grits his teeth. He hates being like this, superior officer and cadet, but in these situations, he has to put his foot down. "You're not safe until you're an officer, and even then..."

“I’m on probation, I have to be careful about my fragile position, I _know_.” Keith turns his face towards the hoverbike and the line on his lips grows tighter. “I just haven’t seen you in over a week, and you’re leaving for another mission that’ll take months—”

“I don’t like it either,” Shiro says, trying to stay calm. “But you need to focus. We have plenty of time, especially if I get picked for your supervising officer—and think about it, we can get a proper apartment together, you and me. And be co-pilots, once everything’s cleared. Just be patient."

“Patient,” Keith mutters. “Don’t you just want time to hurry up? To just _go_?”

“Being an officer is nothing compared to being a cadet. Going on missions and having more freedom—don’t get me wrong; I like that. But in some ways, it’s harder—the press, the obligations, the paperwork…”

“So, what? I get to be with you.”

“Still…” Shiro trails off. “You shouldn’t be doing this so we can be together.”

“Everything’s not just about you, Shirogane. I was interested in space before I met you, remember?”

“Then you should be working hard to achieve your dream.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” Keith snaps. “Do you think I was just sitting on my ass all this time?”

“No,” Shiro says shortly. His head’s killing him, Sanda’s yelled at him twice yesterday, the mission’s with two people he personally can’t stand, and he hasn’t slept well in days—and Keith’s not exactly helping his stress levels now. They rarely argue, but when they do—well, their combined stubbornness has rammed their heads together more than once. “I never said that. Stop putting words into my mouth.”

“Like the fucking Garrison does?”

Shiro half-rises. “You’re out of line.”

“Am I?” Keith snaps. “I know you want to keep your squeaky clean image, and you can’t do that with me on your arm. Sorry I’m holding _you_ back, Golden Boy.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then why won’t you—we literally have a chance to be together in forever, and you're saying no?"

“Because I care about your future!”

“Fine! I’ll shut myself in the library all week, just like you want. Have fun roasting out here!”

Keith storms off, and with an exasperated grunt, Shiro turns back to his bike.

* * *

Shiro wakes up to being kicked full in the chest and a red shirt in his face. “Hey!”

“Shit, sorry!” Keith exclaims, yanking his jacket from the doorknob, pants partially unzipped and belt hanging open at his waist. “Shit, shit, shit, I have drills in five minutes—where the _fuck_ are my—”

Groaning, Shiro rubs his eyes, kicking off one of the blankets entangled around his legs. His mouth tastes like leftover mac and cheese, mixed with a cocktail of morning breath and regret. “Wha—Keith, wait—”

“I don’t have time to wait!” Keith snatches something from the floor, then whirls around. “You don’t have a protein bar or anything?”

“I ate all of them,” Shiro confesses, then slowly sits up, watching Keith tug on his boots and curse again while untangling the laces. “Your hair—”

“I’ll just tie it back or something—”

“You’ll get a demerit—”

Keith finger-combs the flyaway locks for all of two seconds. “Happy? I gotta go. Fuck!”

The door slams behind him, and Shiro falls back onto the bed, pulling his pillow closer and looking at the darkness through the slit blinds.

“Good morning,” he says to himself.

* * *

Shiro catches Keith after class, body thrumming in anticipation. “Usual place. Tonight.”

Keith’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”

“All clear tonight, in more ways than one,” Shiro says. “You in?”

“Always,” Keith declares.

“I’ll bring a picnic basket.” Shiro’s eyes dart to the clock. “Matt’s going to shut down the security system for a bit, and he’s letting me borrow his fancy telescope.”

“Ooh, really?” Keith grins, nudging him. “What is this all about, a special occasion?”

"An evening alone with you? I can't think of an occasion more special.”

Keith flushes and smacks him on the shoulder. “That’s not what it’s all about.”

“You got me,” Shiro admits. “I have news.”

Keith leans in so his voice is a whisper: “Kerberos?”

Shiro raises his eyebrows. “How…”

“Only one pilot in the entire Garrison is the man for the job, so don’t tell me no one knows.” Keith rolls his eyes. “Half of the instructors haven’t been to space or have been stuck in their offices for years, most of your competition is already out on missions, and Matt’s been sliding down the staircases all day and hugging me every time he sees me. It’s not exactly rocket science.”

“Elementary, my dear Keith,” Shiro intones dryly.

Keith flicks his forehead. “Hey. Though…god, Shiro. Kerberos!”

“Kerberos,” Shiro repeats, and he can’t deny the rush of excitement that runs through his veins. “It’ll be amazing. The first of its kind—and you should see the specs on the ship; they’re incredible. And the Holts, they’re going to be there—and oh, I’ll bring back a moon rock or something—and ice crystals! We may have life way out there and—" He realizes he’s clutching Keith’s shoulders maybe too tightly, and loosens his grip. “I wish you could come with me.”

“Me too,” Keith admits. “But I’ll be watching, with the rest of the adoring public, as you make history.” He looks away, flushing. “And…I can't wait until you get back.”

"Me too." Shiro kisses him quickly, mindful of the clock ticking behind him. “For now—tonight?”

“Tonight,” Keith confirms, and winces when the bell rings. “All right. Got to get through one more class—but tonight. I promise. I won’t miss it for anything.”


End file.
